APH A Pirate's Life For Me
by DarkmoonSigel
Summary: First published on Deviant Art A series of stories about England/Arthur in his pirate years as told by a old crewmate of his. Warning for violence, cussing, and OC of my making. Pirates of the Caribbeans quotes and references abound in this. You have been warned.


"A pirate's life for me…."

In Merseyside, England, there lies a busy port town commonly known today as Liverpool, where a small redheaded boy, rich in freckles and pretty much nothing else, sat on the docks, watching gliding ships come and go from far off destinations with dream filled dark brown eyes. He was currently ignoring the pail of milk he had been sent out for this bright morning only to be reminded of its creamy existence quite loudly. "WILLIAM! Oh, for the love of! William! Where have you got yourself off to now!", an angry voice called out from the inn not too far from the absent child. Sweet Charlotte found her daydreaming quarry easily enough to pull him up by his tender ear, causing the boy to reflect that her name was really a misnomer. Charlotte was anything if but sweet and today was no exception.

"Sodding hell! Off with the fairies again. We got customers waitin' and here you are dawdling' as usual.", Sweet Charlotte snapped, delivering a swift kick to a retreating behind, only causing William to spill more of the milk. "Bloody useless.", the buxom blonde muttered, following the trail of milk back to the Bell, Book, and Candle Inn.

The inn was a busy place, its large floor space filled with a mixture of patrons-sailors, merchants, travelers, towns folk, gypsies, and even a few foreigners occupying the many cluttered tables. William delivered the rest of the milk to the disgruntled cook, who sent him running back to the floor to help out, much to the wait staff's distress. Sweet Charlotte, Millie and Kate groaned in unison at his clattering arrival, Sweet Charlotte flying back to the kitchen to exchange cross words with the cook, accented with colorful hand gestures. James, the boy's father and also owner of the fine establishment, sighed heavily praying the lad would not break too many plates this time round. For all his energy and well meaning, William, bless his heart, was complete and utter rubbish at any task that involved movement or coordination. The shattering of crockery and the cry of an enraged, potentially drenched customer sounded expensive, ruining any hope of that not happening today it seemed though. James shook his head sadly, as he made his way over to the scene of the inevitable mishap. He considered briefly sending the poor miserable boy back to the kitchen, but the cook had threatened to quit if William ever graced his hearth again after a particularly bad incident involving radishes and a chicken.

James found his wayward son sopping wet being berated loudly by an equally moist man, a member of the clergy by looks of it, surrounded by a small sea of broken dishes. James's well rehearsed apology and any further argument were cut short though when the heavy front doors shot open with a deafening force backed by a great wind to reveal a man stepping into the bar. Everyone grew silent as he entered to look around slowly with a wandering eye.

The man was old, ancient really, time stooping him over at an awkward angle. He was propped up on one side by a walking stick crutch made of twisted black wood, polished to a high sheen, its surface carved with scenes of the sea. His clothes were an odd mixture of feast and famine, his shirt being real silk left to rot, stained to an unrecognizable color, his coat and pants torn and patched, his boots good quality leather stained and disfigured out of shape by salt and abuse. White hair, long and scraggly, flowed from his head, partially covering a heavily scarred face. An eye patch covered the left side of his ruined worn face, his other 'good' eye so clouded over by cataracts it could have been any color now. William saw as he moved stiffly that the crutch was indeed needed. One of the man's legs was a peg that beat out an odd tempo as he made his way through the stunned company to the fireplace, settling himself in a chair down beside it though the day was still quite warm. William followed his every movement during this time, memorizing ever detail of him-the glint of precious metal around his neck, the loops that drooped from his ears, the rusted cutlass that hung at his side. While others turned away in dismissal over his dirty, sun faded clothing, William was drawn forward to it, rolling back the years in his mind to all its former splendor. Where everyone else saw a broken down old man, the child saw the details shifting through the cracks of a man who still walked with a light fluid grace despite his handicap and advanced years, and whose eye still sparked and held wicked knowledge. "Pirate." William whispered, his breath catching in his throat as his heartbeat kicked up a noticeable notch.

"What are you going on about now?", James snapped, catching his boy by the collar as he seemed to drift off, his eyes wide and hazy. Some vagrant had come tripping into the bar and now William was trying to wander off without cleaning up his mess. The day was turning out just brilliant.

William, for the most part with best efforts intended, tried to focus on his job. He had to being the innkeeper's son. It was expected of him to learn the ins and outs of the establishment that would become his one day. It was not something he looked forward to though, doubt of his abilities gnawing painfully at his insides. A day didn't go by where something wasn't chucked at his head or the barmaids referred to him as a divvy. Even his poor father seemed to be at a loss as what to do with him. He had been since his mother had passed from living with fever a couple of years ago.

Try as he might, William found himself making his way over to the man who on his part looked like he had died in his seat, his body sitting at an uncomfortable angle, braced up by the chair and the fireplace. "Mister…?", William asked hesitantly, touching his arm lightly. He jumped back in fright when the man jerked back, grabbing the boy by the front of his shirt, shoving his craggy face in close to William's own.

"What do ye think ye be doin? Sneaking up on a man like that…..get yeself killed doin' that.", the old man snarled, his voice rough and deep, worn down from years of living on salt air and hard living.

"I'm sorry, sir. I thought you were dead.", William squeaked, all sorts of honesty in his fright. The man let him go with a bark of startled rough laughter.

"I guess I do look a bit worse for wear, eh?", man rumbled good naturally. The pair were interrupted by the sharp noises of Sweet Charlotte who had been sent over.

"If you want to stay here you have to buy something. The fire isn't free.", she said, not bothering with pleasantries. She was sure the man was in here to only warm up.

"A thousand pardons, my bonny lass. I happen to be here on a business of sorts and am waitin' for ma company to arrive.", the man said grandly back, spreading his arms wide. Sweet Charlotte looked less that impressed by the information, crossing her arms over her expansive chest, to scowl down at him.

"I don't care if you are waitin' for the queen herself. If you haven't got any money, you need to get the bloody hell out.", she informed him firmly, pointing toward the door. The old man grinned up at her, mostly toothless, his hand going inside his tattered jacket to pull out a large gold coin.

"Is this what ye been waitin for girl? Do ye think it will be enough to buy a bottle of your best scotch or not?", he drawled out sarcastically, pressing the heavy piece of money into her hand. She tossed a glare at him before flouncing off to James to have the doubloon inspected carefully.

The old man turned back to see the boy gaping at him. "You're a pirate.", William whispered in awe.

"Oh? And are ye a great authority of the subject, laddie? Seen many a pirate I suppose now?", the man countered softly, a merry twinkle in the ruined remainder of his eye.

"Well….no, but you look like one and you just gave Charlotte gold. Not a lot of people pay with gold unless they're rich and you don't look like them.", William told him, presenting all of his worldly observations with all the firm certainty an eight year old could muster.

" Are you thinking' I need a short drop and a sudden stop then boy? Not many a man takes a likin' to the presence of a pirate in their midst.", the man reasoned, a strange smile on his face.

"No, I think its brilliant. I want to become a pirate…..one day anyway.", William whispered in conspiring tones, leaning in close so no one else could hear him. His father would be less that pleased if he learned that.

"Well do ye now. Want to sail under the flag of the fallen, sail with Kirkland then?", the pirate whispered back hoarsely, understanding the need for secrecy. William looked at him in surprise, confusion written plainly on his face.

"Kirkland? Is that the name of a ship?", he asked, his small body brimming with curiosity. There were secrets here, stories just waiting to be told…he could feel it down to the very marrow of his bones. The pirate fell back in his chair though, a mixture of dismay and disgust etched into his features.

"You want to be a pirate but you don't know Kirkland? Captain Kirkland? The pirate king, possibly the greatest pirate that has ever sailed the seven seas, that Kirkland?", the pirate groaned, rubbing his face in disbelief with callused palms. William's response was interrupted not only by Sweet Charlotte, who came bearing a lovely bottle of fine scotch in hand, but also by James himself.

"Oi big man, what can I do ye for?", the elder glanced up, unperturbed though William's face dropped as he guiltily tried to stand in front of the very full bus tub he had failed to return to the kitchen.

"Your gold is real….", James started slowly.

"Aye.", the pirate nodded.

"And you'll be leaving when your business is concluded…", James ventured carefully, the business man in him not wanting to turn down any real chance for money, and hell, if the guy died here while waiting for his company, any left over gold on his person would belong to him.

"One way or another.", the old man muttered, nodding again as he leaned up against the fireplace weakly. Sweet Charlotte presented the scotch with an accompanying scowl to flavor it. The pirate chuckled accepting it with good graces to set the bottle off to the side on the floor beside him. "Tis for my guest when he be arriving parched.", he said wearily, staring into the fire.

"Fine then. William, get yourself off to the kitchen. The cook has potatoes for you when you are done with those dishes.", James said sharply, noticing his progeny trying to sneak off during the exchange.

"Yes sir.", William sighed, hoping a little that the old pirate's company didn't come for a while so he could hear more about this Kirkland fellow before the dinner rush.

"Wait up there landlord. I be havin' business with the boy.", the old man stated firmly, forcing himself to sit up.

"With William? Whatever for?", Sweet Charlotte managed out before James who stared dumbfounded at the pair.

"I be needin' his services you see. I need a body to keep me awake so that I don't leave before my company arrives.", the old man said quietly, gesturing to his own ruined state. Anyone with eyes and half a brain could tell the old man was not long for this world anymore.

"That is all well and good, but my son has his chores. I can't have him lolly gagging about all day keeping you company.", James muttered, ignoring the hopeful grin on William's face.

"I never said it was goin' to be for free, now did I?", the pirate grinned, pulling out another gold coin identical to its predecessor. Sweet Charlotte's and James's eyes grew wide as the coin was offered to William. "So lad, do we have an accord then? Will ye stay with me through thick and thin until ma company comes however long that may be? Don't be takin the coin if ye are not up to it, lad. I take all my accords seriously and I expect ye to do the same.", the pirate asked the boy, who looked up at his father with wide eyes for some sort of direction.

"This is on you William. Whatever you decide, you must hold to it." , James intoned, though part of him wanted to face palm at the naïve boy's hesitation of not agreeing to it instantly. William nodded back speechless as he accepted the coin.

"Then we shall shake on it and our words will be our bond. I am Thomas Kent.", the old man said, holding out his wrinkled hand.

"William, William Teach.", the boy said elated grabbing the other's hand, his first real handshake.

"You can tell the cook to piss off and peel his own tatoes then.", Thomas told James chuckling, the boy's enthusiasm infectious. James rolled his eyes, trudging to the back with bus tub in hand while the bar maids collectively sighed in relief as they watched William pull up a stool in front of Thomas and well out of their way.

"Now how does a lad want to become a pirate but not know shite about them, especially of the most famous one?", Thomas inquired, leaning back to view the small boy in front of him thoughtfully.

"My mum, sir. She used to tell me stories about them. She's dead now.", William said swallowing back hard all the emotions that came with any mention of his mother.

"Happens to the best of us, lad." Thomas sighed with a slow shrug. The pair's thought wandered elsewhere in an ensuing moment of silence.

"Who are you waiting for, sir?", William asked finally, never stuck on a subject for long.

"Who do ye think?", Thomas smirked widely.

"Captain Kirkland?", the boy ventured.

"Aye. He should be here sharpish. He'll take me ta where I need to be goin'.", Thomas said, his eye trailing over to the doors.

"Where's that?", William asked, imagining far off places made of pale golden sand and water the color of rare jewels.

"Fiddler's Green if I'm lucky. He can get me there.", Thomas said with a far off look in his eye.

"I've never heard of it.", William said after a moment of thought. "No surprises there. Be a good lad and go get us some grog. ", Thomas snorted.

"Grog?", William blinked, confused. He didn't know what it was, but it sounded gross.

"Liquid libation?….Beer?…..Never ye mind then. Let's just let one o the tarts get it.", Thomas rolled his eyes, signaling Millie with the universal gesture of Get-Me-A-Damn-Drink-Now.

"Now where to begin….there is and never will be anyone on par with the likes of Captain Kirkland. He ruled the seven seas with an iron fist, robbed the Spanish blind before kickin' them off of the ocean entirely, and sailed one of the fastest ships that ever graced the wild blue, the Bloody Rose.", Thomas said proudly, warming up toward his meager but fully entranced audience.

"There you go….filling the boy's head with nonsense.", Sweet Charlotte snapped, dropping off the drinks, beer for Thomas and water for William.

"Tryin' to rust the pipes with ocean cocktail?", Thomas curled his lip up at the water.

"It's not for you ya al bag o bones, so belt up. Peace, we will never get him to shut up now about make believe pirates.", she complained, popping her hip out a cocky angle.

"Shows how much you know poppet. I be telling' the truth, the sea drag me to its depths if I be lying.", Thomas spat back, acting mortally wounded at the very concept.

"And Fannies your aunt. It is on your sodding head if he goes mucking about over your flights of fancy.", Sweet Charlotte muttered, stalking off sourly.

"Daft tart. Probably thinks mermaids aren't real either. You do know what mermaids are, right lad?", Thomas asked incredulously, not getting his hopes up.

"Of course I do.", William managing to sound indignant about it before quickly adding a soft, "I just didn't know they were real.". Thomas nodded gravely at the young boy.

"Very real lad and very dangerous.", he said in a somber tone.

"Aren't they just ladies with fish tails that sing?", William asked, remembering various figure heads he had seen on ships and snippets of tales he had heard in passing.

"Aye lad, that and so much more. They sing alright….sing a man to death they will. I would know. Lost me leg to a damn sea hag. I would have lost more if it wasn't for the captain.", Thomas said sounding oddly fond as he lightly touched where splintering wood met flesh.

"Your leg got taken by a mermaid? How? Why? What did Captain Kirkland…", William asked excitedly, questions brewing up quicker that he could speak to be shushed back by the old pirate.

"Calm yeself lad. I'll be getting' to it, don't ye worry. It all happened this one fine day at sea…"

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Arthur fell out of bed painfully as result of him trying to stand up too fast after a long night of way too much rum. He lay on the floor groaning, as he re-familiarized himself with the grain of floorboards once again. It felt like some little furry animal had decided to take up residence in his mouth, marking it territory thoroughly before leaving as Arthur hazily wondered if he had thrown up anyway. Some bothersome notion was trying to kick its way through the thick haze of a migraine and the rolls of an angry vengeful stomach, desperate to gain the pirate king's attention. It made itself known fully as Arthur shot up again when he realized his ship wasn't moving….at all. Even when a ship was anchored at sea it rolled with the waves in constant motion. Non-movement meant that they had gone to round for some reason. The worse case scenario was that they had shipwrecked and even worse Arthur somehow had managed to sleep through it. Another reason was that the crew had felt the need to dry dock the Bloody Rose and had not bothered to inform their captain of this particular notion. Either cases were not good for the continued well being of the crew, especially with pirate king in his current state.

Arthur, after some searching and much cursing, managed to find his boots, scarlet coat, and tricorn hat, the one he liked the best with all the feathers in it. He had passed out in his breeches and shirt so that saved him some time and trouble in the long run though with a grimace, he discovered he stunk to high heaven of sweated out booze and other body fluids usually best left on the inside.

Arthur stumbled out on deck, calling out various names of his crew to receive no response at all. A quick walk around the deck revealed no familiar persons upon it either. Making his way to the side to lean over the railing, Arthur confirmed that the ship was dry docked but not on any piece of land Arthur had ever seen before as he squinted through the harsh morning light. The land here was oddly white, bleached of all color that showed through the odd foliage of bright, almost violent greens.

Easily finding the rope ladder the crew had used to exit the boat, Arthur climbed down to land on crunching bits of turf. Kneeling upon the strange earth, he inspected the ground, drawing back in shock over sudden realizations. The white material that made up this spit of land was bone, loads of solidified human calcium, the entire island being made of bone and teeth. Arthur scrambled up the rope ladder, ignoring the complaints of his body to advance upon the crow's nest, scaling the mast easily with long practiced ease. From this high perch, Arthur could see the island was not that big around, more long than wide with the wild greenery concentrating in the middle. Little streams of salt water flowing inwardly toward it to what looked like a clearing of some sort in the dead center of the island. Not seeing his men on the barren shoreline, Arthur reasoned that if any of them were still alive, they would be there.

Returning to his cabin, Arthur stripped down again until he was only in his white shirt and dark blue knee breeches, forgoing shoes and other ornaments as he stripped off his earring and other shiny pieces of metal. Arthur, after much consideration, left behind his firearms as well, taking only his cutlass securely strapped to his side. After a second thought, he took a knife made of iron with him as well. Something about all this rubbed him wrong as to not to take any precautions.

Silently, Arthur left his ship to enter the jungle, a wraith among the shadows of twisted greenery. He managed to get to the border of the clearing before he was struck by a force he had never felt before. It was like bitter honey being poured warmly into his ear, tingling every part of him from the inside out until his skin burned with the heat of desire. A song wrapped around his being, tugging at the most intimate parts of it to stroke nerves to quivering attention. The words defied Arthur's comprehension as they wove through his mind beckoning him softly to come hither, asking him to come at all costs, demanding that he come join her. Arthur could not see the vocalist of the enticing melody but he could already taste her essence on his tongue, and feel the silk of her skin upon his own. Her scent was a familiar bouquet of musk and blood. He longed to comb her hair, caress her curves, and plunder her recesses all of which he knew so well somehow already as images played out in his mind- a flash of silver scales, the curve of red sensual lips, the dark fathomless depths of her eyes. Arthur knew her, wanted her, needed her with an obsession he had never felt before for any another being and that he would pay any price, do anything to be with her.

Arthur fell to the bone earth clutching his head, trying desperately not to scream as his mind burned. The siren's song was strong, but Arthur was not a man, merely looked like one. At some point Arthur Kirkland stop being himself and became England, just England once again. Men were weak, but the land is constant and un-swayed by the suggestive sounds that seek to control it. It also helped that England's leader was currently a woman , and would be quite miffed to find out her favorite privateer was so easily swayed. Arthur…..England…latched onto the flow of his land and tapped into the minds of his female population to clear his head and focus on the important task at hand.

Like a rush of fresh air, the gripping tendrils of the song's hold fell away until all that was left was a tinny voice grinding out a din made of a strange mixture of wheezes and gurgled sounds. England…..Arthur breathed easier, creeping forward through the underbrush to sneak peeks through the foliage. The scene before him took his breathe away again for other reasons entirely.

In the middle of the clearing was a body of water, the round pool being continuous fed into from the ocean by streams of salt water. A throne of sorts rose up from the murky depths of it made entire out of the human skulls. Upon it languished a mermaid, lazily singing, her lips dripping with blood as she feasted. The siren was unearthly beautiful, obviously very female with wide full crimson lips, skin pale as the moon, and long silky hair as red as the blood she so loved to spill. Her eyes were what was truly frightening about her though. They were black on black on black, like orbs of pure obsidian-cold, fathomless and cruel. Her full chest was bare, her naked breasts barely covered by her hair, shining baubles woven into its fiery strands. Her lower half was a long silvery tail that coiled about her in its whip like length. Her busy fingers were tipped with barbed hooks that were currently digging out chucks of bleeding flesh from one of Arthur's crew, the man's face blissful as he sat in the mermaid's lap to be eaten alive piece by piece. His foot was completely gone already with all its flesh stripped away down to the gnawed exposed bone, the mermaid working on the sinews of the meaty calf currently. Other members of Rose's crew sat on the bank, blatantly jealous that they were not being shown the same attention as they begged and wept for the siren to let them come to her. She smiled widely in the face of their adorations, singing patient promises of their slow demise later.

Arthur studied the scene with emerald eyes that darkened slowly with rage to shades of stormy, glittering evergreen. Gritting his teeth, Arthur backed away painfully from his crew, his actions slow and careful as to avoid detection, a plan forming in his mind. Reaching the shore, he ran down it quickly until he found a watery outlet that flowed into the clearing. Arthur relieved himself of his cutlass, the heavy steel weapon useless against the water fae. Armed only with his iron blade tucked securely in his belt, Arthur walked into the rushing water, submerging himself in it slowly. With one last full gulp of air, he relaxed into the depths of it to let the flow of the current pull him downward toward the siren and her underwater hidden home. His body floated unnoticed like a piece of flotsam past the enamored crew into the pool behind the mermaid. Relaxing his body, Arthur sunk deeper and deeper into the dark lair until his bare feet hit the sandy bottom. Looking around with quick eyes, Arthur shifted through the corpses of long dead men, the remainder of their meat nibbled off by fish and other sea faring creatures. Among the bone and rubbish was pieces of treasure that had been officered up to the siren as presents to be cast aside carelessly. They glittered sadly in the weak light that managed to filter down in this tomb. Though he could hold his breath a long time, longer that most mortal men, Arthur's lungs were starting to burn and the nation wished to avoid the very unpleasant sensation of drowning again. Frantic now, he pushed himself, overturning shells and coral in his search for the key to their salvation.

Just when all seemed lost, Arthur found it in a polished skull sporting several gold teeth. Kicking up off of the bottom, the Englishman streamed to the surface, exploding from the water to gasp for air. The siren screamed in anger, changing her song of adoration to one of violence, as she told her victims that Arthur was here to steal her away from them. Growling, the crew of the Rose surged forward, murder intent on their mind Even poor Long Tom, his leg eaten off to the knee, threw himself into the water to end his captain's life.

"I think not, poppet.", Arthur….England purred as the smell of rain cleanly cut through the scent of salt and blood. All the Englishmen froze in a sudden daze as England swam to the mermaid who stared him with wide eyes.

"You are not a man.", she gurgled, her breath coiling thick with the stink of metallic death.

"No love, I'm not. I'm something far worse. Even worse than you.", Arthur smirked, dodging a sudden swiping blow for the most part from the mermaid's barbed fingertips. A long scratch marked his face across his eyes the orbs thankfully intact, though blood flowed into it like scarlet tears. The siren licked her claws clean, a nasty smile growing wide on her face.

"But you bleed like one though, and taste even better.", she laughed, the noise dying out slowly as she realized that Arthur did not look perturbed by it in the least bit. In fact, he was grinning an malicious expression, a victorious look upon his visage, full of sharp teeth and hard eyes.

"I'm sure I do, though that is the last ye will be ever havin' from me, harlot.", Arthur said in a low intense tone bringing up his hand slowly to show what it was holding in a very firm grasp. "It has always struck me as odd in why ye mermaids insist on investing all your power into such a fragile wee things.", Arthur said, making a great show of studying the shell comb, so plain and undecorated anyone else would have over looked it. The siren's eyes grew wide as the nation's grip tightened, cracking the comb ever so slightly. She shrieked, writhing in pain as she shrunk back. The wily creature was not out of tricks yet though as she whipped her tail forward, slick and quick as an eel to knock the pirate king back into the water. To her dismay, his gasp on the comb was just as tight. She snaked through the water barreling toward him in the hopes of retrieving her comb before its destruction. Arthur twisted around to face her smoothly, revealing his last surprise as he drew the iron knife. The siren screamed, the shrill call heard for miles underwater. She fled to the darkest depths of the pool, hiding among the bones as Arthur swam back unhindered to the surface.

There, he found his men recovering slowly, groaning softly in pain, the air punctuated with the ragged sobs of Long Tom who started to feel the full effects of his grievous injuries as the siren's spell faded away. Arthur sighed heavily, glaring down at the water, his migraine slowly seeping back in around the edges. It was going to be a long damn day….

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"…..and then the captain himself carried me back to the ship to tend ma leg.", Thomas said grinning, enjoying the look of awe of the young boy's face.

"What happened to the mermaid? Did the captain kill her?", William asked in stunned tones.

"Kill her? No lad. He did something far worse to her. He made her his slave to do his biddin' out on the sea after o course he took her singin' voice, trappin' it in a white pearl forever.", Thomas said proudly, finishing his beer to signal for another one to the roll of Sweet Charlotte's eyes.

"For a man who is dyin', he sure drinks like a fish.", Sweet Charlotte muttered to the other girls.

"Aye, but it's nice for once not pickin' shards out of me foot.", Millie sighed, having recently been a victim of poor William's lack of dexterity and timely clean up.

"Hush you al' wet hens, the poor boy means well enough.", Kate chided, having known his mother well she had a soft spot for William. She plucked the drinks off of Sweet Charlottes' tray to deliver them with two steaming bowls of scouse.

"Ye be a bonny angel of beauty and mercy, lass.", Thomas thanked her, with only a slight leer at her curves. The tall dark haired girl with the fringe rolled her blue eyes at him, ruffling Williams' hair playfully.

"So this Captain Kirkland? Was he a handsome man?", Kate asked, since barmaids hear everything one way or another.

"Ye would be wringing out your unmentionables at the very sight o him.", Thomas mumbled through his stew.

"Shame! There are ladies in your presence, sir.", Kate laughed, feigning embarrassed shock.

"Show me where they be and I'll make amends.", Thomas smirked, playing along to the old game.

"It's complete bollocks.", a nearby eavesdropper commented, a tall burly man with an attitude who had seen the exchange of gold earlier. James had been keeping an eye on him ever since. A barman gets an idea of these sort of things right quick if he doesn't want to be robbed or have a fight breaking out in his establishment. He reached under the counter for the barman's peacekeeper, several feet of solid oak with the handle wrapped with braided leather.

The naysayer stood up to loom over the pair, unspoken threat rolling off of his posture as he leaned over to smirk at Thomas who regarded him coolly. Kate moved in front of William, glaring at the ruffian as she palmed her knife out of her apron. "I say that you are an old liar and your Captain is shite.", the hooligan spat, going so far as to grab the old man by the coat at his shoulder.

"Oh do ye now.", Thomas said lightly, flicking his wrist smoothly upward between the man's legs to end in a soft wet sound. The punk's eyes flew open wide as he let out a high weird sound, sinking to his knees clutching the attached remainder of his family jewels. Thomas grabbed him by his filthy hair, pulling their faces close.

"Ye think ye can scare me dog. I used to be killin' men for far less, so take a short walk off o a long pier. The next time ye cross me or be talkin' about the captain disrespectful like, I will send ye to see ole hob. Savvy?", Thomas growled, pushing the man back with a surprising show of strength. Before he could bleed anywhere else or start of fuss, James came lumbering over, picking the man up easily to toss him out the back.

Thomas sat down heavily in his seat, clearly exhausted now and eerily quiet in his repose. William and Kate exchanged worried glances, the boy getting off of his stool to gently shake the old pirate. "Ach, what have I told ye about wakin' a man in that sort o manner?", Thomas groaned, life trickling back into his features wearily.

"Sorry sir, but you were saying about the captain?", William reminded gently.

"Were all of his men as loyal as you? You talk about him like he was more than just a sailor.", Kate asked curiously, using a spare bar clothe on her person to wipe up the blood.

"Loyal to death and beyond, lass. That's what it means to be part of a crew or at least part of the Rose's crew. We were closer than kin, took care of each other, and the Captain looked after us all in his own way. Ole Hob help ye though if that trust was broken though.", Thomas said seriously with a touch of sadness in his tone.

"What happened then?", William found himself asking, his curiosity playing out grisly scenes in his head involving plank walking and the use of many hungry sharks.

"Me lad, the deepest circle of hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers….That is, if you are lucky and the captain doesn't find ye first.", Thomas said, lowering his voice to suggest darker, more colorful things as he leaned forward. William shuffled his stool closer, feeling like he was going to be told a great and terrible tale. Thomas did not disappoint.

"Ye see lad, there once was a fella called Grinning Skull Jack…."

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Jack Davis, known by his crewmates as Grinning Jack or Skull Jack, was staring at his cards like they held the secrets to life itself, though few would have any guesses to his inner workings. Jack had the habit of keeping a permanent grin upon his face no matter what the situation was, whether direly grave or not. He smiled when he killed, he smiled when he drank, and even he smiled in the face of certain death. It was like he couldn't help it anymore than a skull could not to grin so the name stuck. Not that Jack cared. He just smiled about it but then, there was very few things he didn't smile at. Because of his perpetual gleeful expression, Jack was very good at cards, his facial quirk a permanent bluff. His crewmates made it a point never to play with him anymore, so Jack was left to take other people's money which he did so gladly.

The Bloody Rose had docked at port on a pirate claimed island for some information and some much needed shore leave for a couple of days. Two close islands formed the shanty town known as Shipwreck by some, and Torrontegui by others, the gap between the pair of land masses being connected by various hanging and floating bridges all made from parts of ruined ships. The majority of the pirates lived and met there with all its many bars, inns, brothels, shops, and taverns. Anything and everything could be found in this pirate town where items, food, treasure, and gold were traded, stolen, and/or gambled away. The pirate kings, the few there were, stayed at the town as well, though their quarters were hidden, kept secret for various reasons upon penalty of death.

The crew of the Rose were currently at the Skull and Crossbones bar, their favorite haunt, frittering away their money on wenches, grog, and in Jack's case, gambling. He was sitting in on a hot game with a high pile of gold, jewels, and various other item of value in front of him. Jack looked up in dismay when a hand clamped down on his shoulder suddenly.

"We're headin' back to the ship Jack. How much longer ye be plannin' on takin' these poor scallywag's money.", Long Tom yawned, eyeing the disgruntled players.

"As long as they want to keep handin' it over. Don't you worry gents, I plan on stayn' so ye can win your coins back.", Jack smirked wide into his sarcastic tones.

"Get yeself back to ship sharpish like. The captain wants to be goin' at first light. Big plans.", Long Tom reminded with the shake of his head.

"Piss off Tom before ye ruin me luck.", Jack snapped back good naturedly, waving his friend off. Long Tom rolled his eyes in answer, hobbling away. He still wasn't used to the new peg leg and drinking didn't help the matters of balance much either.

Jack reflected later on in the night that Tom must have really taken his luck with him. A new player had joined the game, who was obviously French. Though the other English players curled their lips up in disgust, the pirate town knew no discrepancy among thieves and murderers, taking in all races and nationalities as one to steal from them equally. The blonde man wear a bright sky blue frock thick with embroidery and lace, smelling heavily of flowered perfume. Jack had put him down as an easy mark, missing the sparkle of intelligence deep in the sapphire blue eyes that seemed to see through every one of Jack's bluffs and tactics. They played long into the night, other less determined players falling away one by one until it was only just the pair of them.

Jack didn't know what bothered him more about the man-the fact he kept forgetting to speak English in favor of French or the smug look on his face that had not faded once that night. The height of the winnings had long reversed in favor of the Frenchman until Jack found himself betting money he didn't have. Whether it was national pride, pure stupidity, or a combination of both, Jack kept telling himself that he would come back right after this next hand. It never happened though, and before Jack knew it he was in trouble, deep trouble when the Frenchman stood up, ready to leave with his winnings…all of them.

Now…it is never a smart move to bet money you don't have. It is a repulsively stupid idea to bet money you don't have with other murderers and thieves who like to take their pound of flesh for any slight, sometimes literally. Jack's only option was to somehow talk his way out of this matter.

"I don't have it, but I can get it…", Jack began to be waved to silence dismissively by the Frenchman.

"I know that. I am not interested in money.", he said with a coy smile, licking his lips. Jack backed away, eyes wide.

"Ye will not be seekin' your pleasure here. I'm no whore.", Jack babbled, panicking. The Frenchman shot him a disgusted look.

"You English idiot. As if I would ever deign to touch the likes of you, monsieur. Mon Dieu, you smell like you haven't bathed in years. I was talking about information, you stupid little man.", the Frenchman snapped in disgust.

Jack grew limp with sudden relief. "What do ye want to know?", he asked warily. Information could be just as expensive as gold depending on what it was about.

"I wish to know the whereabouts of your captain on this abysmal island.", the Frenchman purred. Jack's eyes grew wide again filled with a different sort of fear.

"I can't be tellin' ya that! That's mutiny!", he gasped, backing away from the man as if he held a taint of something evil. The Frenchman rolled his eyes, condensation for the pirate seeping from his every feature.

"Monsieur, I only wish to speak with Captain Kirkland. Nothing less, nothing more. I do not see what the big deal is about it and I am willing to forgive your entire immense debt to me for this one teeny tiny piece of information.", the blonde reasoned in soothing sweet tones.

"I can't be givin' a stranger and a damn frog that sort of business. Is there not another accord we can come to?", Jack begged desperately, wondering if the man would let him go long enough to borrow…steal some of the money he owed him instead.

"It is not like I am not familiar with your captain. You see we have been friends for a very long time, longer than you would think.", Francis Bonnefoy smiled at his own little joke.

"You? A bloody Frenchman?! Friends with our captain?! I don't believe it!", Jack sneered openly, his contempt apparent.

"Mais il est vrai. I know him well enough to call him Arthur and I am also aware that he is something…..how you say…..different, if you understand my meaning.", Francis countered smoothly, watching the Englishman waver under the weight of new information.

"You are not going to hurt the captain…..?", Jack whispered hoarsely, uncertainty warring in his gut painfully.

"No, of course not. I just have something important to tell him that needs his immediate attention. I simply do not know where to seek him out.", Francis said lightly, pulled the drowning man further under.

"Well…if that be all…..", Jack murmured, glaring at the Frenchman. "It is.", Francis smiled, sensing victory was his.

Jack decided to follow Francis afterward though his gut told him not to. He paced in an nearby alleyway outside of Arthur's hideout having just missed the Frenchman's arrival, debating with himself whether or not to warn the captain somehow. The option was brutally taken away from him with the crash of furniture and the obvious sounds of a vicious brawl followed by a bad moment of silence. Jack spent the next couple of tense quiet minutes telling himself that the captain was more than capable of taking care of himself against a foppish Frenchman.

Jack looked on in despair though, when the hideout was exited by just not Francis but by several other men bodily carrying Captain Kirkland who still struggled and swore loudly despite his bonds. Jack felt a hint of pride through his shame to see that all the Frenchmen looked worse for wear, their clothes torn, and their bodies bloodied and bruised. Jack followed them closely, desperately trying to think of a way to fix this situation. He groaned when the group turned immediately toward a close dock where a waiting ship was anchored, French colors flying from its mast. It was too late to get help and it was far too late to help himself as Jack flung forward, his pistols drawn, yelling like a madman.

"You! Really the English have no manners. We had an agreement!", Francis growled, drawing his own firearm to shoot at the charging pirate. Jack threw himself behind some cover, peeking around the old crates.

"We had an accord! Ye said ye weren't goin' to hurt him!", Jack yelled, firing a shoot wildly causing the group to duck.

"I lied obviously, and technically, I did not plan on hurting him but he insisted on bringing it upon himself. I wanted to save that pleasure for Antonio when I present dear Angleterre to him.", Francis said in reasonable tones, leaning over to stroke a bruised pale cheek. He narrowly avoided having his fingers bitten off.

"Ye are in league with the Spaniard! I should have known. Ye never had the balls to do anything yeself frog!", Arthur spat out venomously, struggling with renewed energy against his chains.

"Perhaps I will take the time to have you grace my bed before I give you away to dear Antonio…..for a price of course.", Francis grinned, tracing long fingertips down a slender muscular torso. Arthur growled, swinging his head forward abruptly into the smirking Frenchman's nose with the wet sound of crunching cartilage. Francis shrieked in pain, clutching his face as Arthur kneed one of the henchmen on the gut and again in the head. The other keeled over, shot by Jack who saw his opening when the Frenchmen fell. He ran over to pistol whip the last conscious guard who proved to be more adept than his companions twisting out and away from Jack's wide blow. The man closed the gap between the two of them to grapple with the firearm Jack had attempted to unload in the man's head. Jack managed to keep the pistol from the man, hitting him viciously in the throat, but also squeezed the trigger in his struggling movements. A shot went off to be accompanied by a moist gurgling noise.

The world slowed down for Jack to perfect intense clarity as he turned to see a scarlet wound blossom on Arthur's chest, the petals of it spraying wide and full. Emerald eyes, so perfect enough in their depth and color to shame even the most perfect gem, grew wide with surprise as they stared back at Jack. Arthur fell slowly backwards in an oddly graceful arch over the edge of the dock. Jack felt like he was moving slowly in a bad dream as he looked in time to see the sea pull itself over the pale figure of his captain leaving behind only a swirling smudge of crimson in his drowning wake.

"You idiot! Now I will never find him.", Francis cursed, the continuity of his words lost to bleeding, his shattered nose, and streams of colorful French. Jack didn't hear him though, his world filled with white noise as his trembling hands dropped the pistol.

"I dinna mean to…..I…I'm a dead man.", Jack whispered, his lips twisting up into a grin as he stared to dryly laugh. Francis threw him a disgusted look as he stalked back to his ship grumbling to himself about the madness of the English. Jack watched him go with a far off look in his eyes, before leaving quickly himself. He ran through the town, avoided any of places the Rose's crew may go until he found a departing ship destined for far off lands in the Orient. It didn't matter where to him anymore as he stowed away in the depths of the ship. It only meant he got to breathe a little while longer before death came looking for him personally.

Jack wandered from ship to ship, a mere husk of a man, his quick eyes always darting to far corners to study shadows. Though he still smiled, there was no humor left in it. Jack did not gamble any more. He was too busy looking out for the one to claim him. He traveled far and wide, working on any ship that would have him, never staying anyplace longer that a day when he was actually forced on land. Eventually, Jack ended up in the port of New Orleans in the New World, so very far from his beloved homeland of England. He was miserable there in this French controlled port, but he wasn't planning on being there long. He had been told that a ship was leaving that very night and Jack planned to be on it.

As he made his way to the dock, a lone figure walked off to the side of it, obviously approaching him. Jack subtly drew out his blade, expecting the kind of trouble one would find this time of night. With cards, he had given up firearms as well, so he hoped the other was not armed with one. Jack dropped the blade in his surprise though as the stranger came fully into view. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised to see ye now, should I?", Jack managed out in a shaky voice, making the sign of the cross at the dead man. Arthur tilted his head ever so slightly at him, politely tipping his tricorn hat, smirked at the symbol.

"Evenin' Jack. It's been a while.", Arthur murmured softly. Jack stumbled forward to place his hands on the front of Arthur's shirt, ripping it open to reveal a smooth torso, bare of any remains of a bullet wound. Jack hung onto the fabric heavily as if to anchor himself to reality, laughing raggedly as he leaned up against his former captain.

"How did ye find me?", Jack asked, his voice wild and slightly crazed. He felt cool gloved fingers draw back a lock of his hair to reveal the rose, Arthur's mark, upon his neck.

"I could find ye in the bowels of hell blindfolded if need bein'.", Arthur told him, stroking feverish hot skin almost affectionately.

Arthur pulled back from the other man to start walking, not bothering to look back at Jack, toward a very familiar ship that sailed into view to dock, the Bloody Rose just as glossy black as he remembered. Jack followed lightly, a wide grin on his lips, a great weight it seemed taken from his shoulders somehow. As he boarded his old ship, Jack saw the crew quietly gathered in a circle, Arthur in the middle of it waiting for him patiently. Jack squared his shoulders, moving forward as the circle parted for him. He met Arthur in the center to be forcefully driven to his knees by a pair of his former crewmates. Arthur produce a small blade, drawing its razor edge deeply into the skin of Jack's forehead as he carved out an ancient symbol. To Jack's credit and personal pride, he managed not to scream until the very end.

After he was finished, Arthur drew back to survey his handiwork with a solemn nod of approval. Jack was let go to fall face forward on the deck. "What now o captain, my captain.", Jack whispered as he stared at the black boots before him.

"Now Jack me boy, you walk the plank.", Arthur said quietly. Jack was picked up, forced to stand as he was led to the length of wood that hung off the edge of the ship. As Jack was pushed toward it, confused thoughts floated around in his aching head. He was not bound in any way and the Rose was docked right off of shore. Even with the deep wound in his head, it was just a quick dunk in the drink before a short swim to land. He looked back at Arthur who met him with cold emerald eyes.

"Take a walk Jack.", Arthur ordered.

Jack flipped a cheeky salute to the crew, a smile wide on his lips, taking a running start before jumping into the sea. As he suspected, the salt burned something fierce into his forehead but other than that nothing. Jack broke the surface to look up at the crew who were just staring down at him intently, not moving as inch. Confused, Jack started to swim away when a sharp pain ran down his spine like razor blades of ice. The pirate screamed loudly as he floundered in the water, seeking purchase on the salty fluid that flowed through his clawing fingertips. Jack felt his body pulse as his skin burned, the nerves singing shrill songs of vivid pain. Muscles cramped, Jack's body turning against itself in a violent manner as he sunk into deeper water, swallowing up the ocean in frantic gulps. He sunk further and further until the light could not penetrate the depths he fell to hit the cold bottom…..

…..and yet he still live, breathing in sea water as is it was air. He moved sluggishly now, feeling oddly heavy as the pain fizzled out and away from his senses leaving him to experience odd cold from his inner core out. He rose shakily toward the weak moon light following fleeing bubble's path to the break the glossy top of the water. The crew drew back in fright at his appearance from the depths, muttering prayers and making frantic signs of the cross at him. He looked down at himself at where his arms should have been to see only mounds of fleshy tentacles that moved continuously in shades of putrid blues and purples. The flesh coiled and unfurled so he could see hundreds of little sucker pads that puckered at him, all lined with little sharp teeth. Jack saw his reflection faintly in the water with his new eyes, far more sensitive that his old ones. Yellow eyes that still looked horribly human gazed back at him with bared contained fury and fear as they studied the black mark set between the horror eyes, its true meaning only known to a few.

Jack cast those new eyes up at the one person who stayed firmly at the railing, his own forest eyes viewing the results of his spell unflinching. Jack reached up his tentacles beseechingly, gripping the side of the Rose to shake the vessel. Arthur muttered a word of power, causing the mark to burn in response. Jack drew away, gurgling in pain. "The deepest circle in hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers. Maybe one day after ye have earned my forgiveness, ye may go there. Until then, go visit Spanish vessels and see if ye can persuade the damn Spaniard to stay the hell off me ocean.", Arthur told him, pointing out to the great blue. The Kraken, who had once been known as Grinning Skull Jack, sank back slowly below the surface of the salt water to envelope himself into the chilling embrace of the crushing darkness.

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"Poor Jack…..", William whispered softly.

"Aye poor Jack. The luckless bastard is probably still out there…..somewhere in the deep.", Thomas nodded, stoking the fire up.

"So the captain never forgave him?", William asked, throwing more wood onto the dying fire. The old man was growing paler and seemed to fade visibly around the edges. Thomas's eye threatened to flutter shut as his voice grew noticeable weaker.

"Sir, is that all? There has to be more!", William said quickly, jumping up to shake Thomas's arm.

"Lay off lad! What have I told ye about waking a man like that?!", Thomas muttered making himself sorely sit up. He looked around the inn to see that the dinner crowd had thinned out as the night drew darkly nearer. He sighed heavily, his eyes falling on the bottle of scotch when they did not find the one he sought among the crowd.

"He will come.", William said firmly, resting his hand on the old pirate's shoulder.

"Aye lad, he will come for me. Tis more of a matter if I decide to go before him.", Thomas smiled tiredly.

"Don't say that.", William snapped, stomping his foot with all the authority a small eight year old could muster.

"Not that it would matter lad. The Captain has a way with spirits in the same manner he has with wee beasties.", Thomas laughed, patting the boy's hand fondly. Gesturing toward the stool for William to resume his seat, Thomas waved Sweet Charlotte over for another beer.

"Sweet bleeding Jesus, you're not dead yet?", she snapped, slamming the beer down before him.

"And deprive ye of me company, my bonny lass?! Never.", Thomas smirked, kissing his fingertips to offer it up to her. Sweet Charlotte crinkled up her nose in disgust, turning sharply on her heel to leave the pair to look at her swaying backside.

"Har har, if I was but twenty years younger….", Thomas chuckled, admiring the bar maids, each pretty in their own way.

"What? You would argue with them more?", William asked innocently. Thomas gave him a sharp look, before snickering loudly.

"I be thinkin' ye are a lot sharper than ye look.", Thomas said thoughtfully, rubbing his stubbly chin. William shrugged waiting patiently for the pirate to begin again.

"Hmmm…..Where was I, lad?", Thomas mumbled, tossing back his beer to wet a dry throat.

"Spirits?", William ventured, hoping to avoid to topic of the pirate's demise.

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After talking about many thing and telling stories each one unbelievable than the last one, the old pirate trailed off into silence. It was very late now, the day robbed of its bright minutes by the greedy night whose dark thieving cloak was richly studded with diamond like stars. The guests of the inn had died off long ago until the bar stood empty save for the two by the fire. William could occasionally hear the others in the back, cleaning up as he fed more wood to the reluctant fire, poking it wake to a flurry of irritated roused sparks.

William turned back to his employer to see Thomas slumped over, his chin tucked into his still chest. "Sir…you mustn't!", William cried, jumping up to shake the pirate by his shoulders roughly, jerking the old man around like rag doll even under his slight grip. William looked desperately around him for help of some sort, his eyes alighting on the half full mug of ale. He snatched it up to toss the foamy contents into Thomas's face.

Thomas slowly blinked awake, making pain filled sounds as he hacked up remnants of life. "Don't be wastin' lad. Tis abuse of the spirits. Bad luck and all.", he rasped, taking in long difficult breaths.

"You can't be doing that!", William admonished loudly, pacing in a small pace.

"What? Dyin?", Thomas chuckled, watching the boy with a weary eye.

"Yes that! You have to wait and stay here with me.", William whispered, stopping in his frantic steps to stare down at his clenched hands. Thomas studied the young boy thoughtfully.

"Lad…..life is about the comin' and goin'. None o us are meant long for this spit of earth. It's fleetin' as the wind, so don't be mournin' this al seadog. I haven't done nothing' to deserve it, believe ye me.", Thomas told his seriously, gesturing for William to sit again.

"Does he know you are here?", William asked tentatively, watching Thomas like a hawk. The boy had to wonder being there were a lot of inns in Liverpool.

"Aye lad….I….I was a fool though, and put this off a wee bit late…..I dropped the letter into the sea….with his mark…..it was carried away…..by….", Thomas rambled, his words slow and forced, the effort of even just talking obviously taking its toll. To William, it was like watching the end of candle, the pool of wax spreading out too far for the wick to keep it alight.

William rose quietly to kneel down beside the old man, taking a cold, marked hand into his warm own. He had seen this type of slow trickling away death before. It would not be long now. William steeled himself for what was to come. He had made a promise, an accord with pirate, and would stay with him by his side until the end…just like he had done with his own mum. His father had been too scared to do it. William closed his eyes, hoping it would quick while still childishly wishing at the same time that miracles really did happen. As he listened to Thomas's breathing grow more shallow, William considered praying briefly. It hadn't worked with his own mother though so why would it now with a man he barely knew. Thomas seemed older if that was even possible, his skin gray now and his eye closed. William sniffled, fidgeting to fight back tears. He hadn't cried since his mother had died so he wasn't going to start now. It was his small vengeance against life. Thomas shuddered slightly then grew still. William wondered if his father was still close by. He would need his help carrying Thomas and would have to let him use some of the gold to bury the pirate. His thoughts were interrupted though oddly enough by the heavy scent of rain and wet earth.

"It's been a while, Long Tom."

William's eyes shot open as he became aware of the other's presence, the voice soft, melodic, and very near. William trembled as he stood up, releasing Thomas's hand gently. The old pirate stirred slightly, cracking his eye a slit. "Ello Captain.", he breathed.

William turned around slowly to face the man who had entered the inn as softly as a spirit. He was surprised to see that he was not that tall but what the man lacked in height he made up for in sheer presence alone. William could only stare, slack jawed. The pirate before him wore a long rich crimson damask waistcoat accented with heavy gold buttons and trim over a white silk shirt that was open to reveal a wiry muscular chest. Worn black bucket topped boots came up almost to his knees, covering a pair of faded navy blue cotton knee breeches. An emerald satin green sash with beaded fringe wrapped around his lower hips and waist with a pair of pistols, heavy with scrollwork on the handles, tucked into it. A scarred well balanced cutlass hung from a wide leather braided belt and scabbard. Many gold bejeweled rings were on his long fingers while heavy gold chains and pendants hung from his slender neck. A single gold loop was in his right ear. The outfit was finished with a magnificent hat….a tricorn affair. It was black and weathered from use and time. Feathers of every shade imaginable flowed out of its corners down the back, further accented by blooms of scarlet roses and careless strands of pearls. Strange gold coins and bright glittering jewels were sewn into places along the brim making it more of a crown really than just a hat.

Pale sandy blond hair that look feather soft to the touch, surrounding a graceful porcelain visage of small features and trailed down to lightly brush a slender, graceful neck. It framed a small delicately featured face with high cheekbones and sculpted lips that were wind burned red. A pair of thick, dark eyebrows did nothing to mar the face but actually drew attention to a pair of sparkling emerald eyes that seemed to shift in vibrant shades and were framed by long full lashes. His skin was lightly tanned and slightly red from salt burn, and though his body and frame was slender, he did not give off an air of delicate weakness at all. A power pulsed from within that showed in even the subtlest of gestures.

"Pirate King.", William whispered in awe to an answering smirk and bushy eyebrow raised at Long Tom .

"Been telling the boy tales now, have ye?", Arthur asked, moving forward smoothly to stand before the old pirate, who leaned over to retrieve the bottle of scotch.

"Have a drink with me before we go?", Thomas offered.

" We best be quick about it. Ye look a bit worse for wear.", Arthur nodded, taking the bottle. William jumped up to retrieve a pair of glasses for them.

"Aye…Ye look the same as ever, ye scallywag.", Thomas sighed, his eye lingering on a face unmarked by the passing of years.

"Someone has to be able to carry your arse.", Arthur said dismissively, pouring the drinks for them, passing it to Thomas. "May the Devil be given his due.", they toasted, clinking glasses to swallow the scotch with content sighs.

"How long do ya plan on being, ya al bag o bones?", sounded Sweet Charlotte's sharp voice as she and Kate came out of the kitchen to check on William before they went off to bed. The two girls froze as they viewed the newest arrival. Arthur smiled broadly at them, swaggering over.

"I thank ye for takin' such good care of ma crew.", Arthur purred, drawing up Kate's hand to lay a odd tender kiss upon meat of her palm. He turned to do the same to Sweet Charlotte who promptly fainted dead away before he had the chance. She was fortunately caught by Kate who glared down at her co-worker murderously.

Shrugging as he walked away from the girls, Arthur set aside his glass, offering a hand to the old man, who was pulled up to lean heavily against him. "The Rose then?", Thomas whispered as they headed toward the door.

"Aye. She'll take ye were ye need to go Tom.", Arthur answered softly.

"Is she still as fast as the wind?"

"Aye, there is still none faster that her."

"Are the sails still red?"

"As blood."

"Twill be a fine journey then."

William followed them to the door, holding it open for them. The pair stopped at the threshold at Thomas's insistence. "Ye been a good lad.", Thomas said, ruffling red hair.

"I want to go with you!", William blurted out, his eyes wide and begging.

"Lad…..where I'm goin' there is no comin' back.", Thomas said kindly, shaking his head.

"Can't I be part of your crew?", William pleaded, his question directly solely at Arthur who smiled at him, the expression touched with a hint of sorrow.

"I have only come for Long Tom for one last voyage, boy.", Arthur intoned, causing William to hang his head to bite a quivering lip.

The boy jumped when something was placed on his head. He looked up from under the wide brim of the Captain's own hat in surprise. "I think ye wear it well. Good luck, mate.", Arthur. The pair hobbled off, Thomas's peg leg tapping out an odd tempo.

William closed the door to lean heavily against it. "He was real! I can't believe it!", he could hear Sweet Charlotte babble over and over again over Kate's grumbled curses as he slowly realized something. Flinging open the doors, William ran through the streets as it his very life depended on it. If he didn't do this now, he would regret it for the rest of his life, he just knew it. William ran to the very edge of the dock, his eyes on the dark expanse of water before him.

William realized immediately if the full moon had not been out he would have not seen it at all. The Bloody Rose glided out on the water lightly, outlined in glowing silver, her dark polished wood midnight black, the figure head a weeping angel whose sweeping wings trailed backward carved into the railing. Scarlet sails of silk billowed fluidly, marked by the colors hoisted high overhead. A dark flag of the fallen with it skull and crossbones snapped alongside a strange flag marked with a crest bearing a rearing lion and unicorn on either side of a crimson rose with a burning crown floating above it's full head.

William could make out a lone figure standing firm at the wheel as a sudden wind captured the sails full. The ship was gone in the blink of an eye, its existence so brief, many others would have doubted they had seen it at all.

William sat down on the dock to study the dark horizon before him as tears made short slick paths down his cheeks to join the ocean. He sat there until the sun broke the night's hold on the world with fiery shards of light in shades of gold.

William got up stiffly, feeling lighter somehow….new even. The world seemed different to him now, brighter in a way as he adjusted his new hat to a cocky angle, walking back to the Bell, Book, and Candle Inn with his head held high and a song on his lips.

"A pirate's life for me…."


End file.
